


Don't Give Up On Us

by drinkginandkerosene



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkginandkerosene/pseuds/drinkginandkerosene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written directly after the Break Up Episode.</p><p>Blaine's reached breaking point, and his only source of comfort is in New York, so he'll just have to go there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Give Up On Us

Blaine had sent forty eight texts.

Twenty four calls that just rang out as he cradled the phone to his ear.

Three calls where Kurt had sent him to answer phone.

One message left.

Emails, twenty. IMS? Countless. Three sets of flowers sent.

One letter, five pages long. Sealed with a kiss. The lyrics to candles written on the inside of the envelope lid.

He’d only gotten one reply, of sorts.

A box of his things that Kurt sent back. He went through it all, holding the few shirts he had left with Kurt to his face, because they didn’t smell of his own skin anymore, they smelt of Kurt. He noticed one of his jumpers was missing. He hoped he’d forgotten to include it in the box as opposed to say, burning it.

He wouldn’t blame his boyfriend.

Exboyfriend.

His days were passing, passing too slowly to bear. What Kurt hadn’t realised (or maybe he did, and just didn’t care), is that without him there, McKinley was pointless. Like, literally, pointless. Blaine had moved schools for a boy who wasn’t there anymore. Even before the breakup, school was hard. But now, Finn had done the lovely service of telling the entire glee club what he had done.

He was back to being the kid he was before Dalton, eating alone. He had half an idea that they would kick him out the glee club if they could, but they needed him, needed his voice. He hated singing now. All of them were either stupid happy love songs that made him sick or heartbroken ones that made him tear up but elicited no sympathy.

The final straw, was his father.

James Anderson hadn’t bothered hiding his delight at his son being A) not with a boyfriend anymore, and B) not in a school of boys.

“You can look at girls now Blaine, really look at them, get to know them. Please try this time, try harder.”

It went on two months before his dad snapped.

“I’m gay! I’m always going to be gay, whether Kurt loves me or not, heck, whether you love me or no-“

The slap was stinging, humiliating, but Blaine hadn’t looked away. He looked at his father evenly, quietly. And walked straight upstairs, grabbing his bag, shoving in jumpers, bowties, pants, anything important or sentimental. Once a backpack was filled, he filled a suitcase. Maybe he knew this was coming, subconsciously or not. Everything was easy to find. He didn’t even have that much stuff. When he went downstairs again, his father was gone, most likely holed up in his study with a glass of whisky. His wallet however…

Blaine didn’t realise where he was going until he asking for it in the first taxi he saw. The airport was busy, it being seven in the evening, the dark just setting in, the winter bringing the nights early. Blaine bought his ticket, holding it in shaking hands. It was going to take a few hours, so he’d sleep on the benches in the departures lounge. Where he was going, even if it went wrong, it’s where he wanted to be.

It was the next morning when he arrived, fidgeting in outside the front door, trying to summon up the courage to knock.

It turned out he didn’t have to.

The door opened outward, and a young man walked out, laughing, smile big and bright as he waved back, wandering down the stair well. Kurt was holding the door open, laughing too until his eyes fell on Blaine. He was dressed in Blaine’s too-big jumper and a pair of underwear and… Nothing else. Something clicked in Blaine’s mind, and he stepped back as if physically struck, his heels hitting the suitcase that rested behind him.

“Blaine! What are you doing here?!”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“ He didn’t want to cry, he really didn’t, but the past two months crashed down on him with all the subtly of bricks. Kurt had obviously been less torn up than him, but what else was to be expected? He had always needed Kurt more than Kurt needed him, even though it was hard to tell, at first at least. He snatched the handle of the suitcase, ready to run, go find somewhere else to sleep, anywhere. But Kurt had grabbed his wrist, made him pause.

“Blaine. Blaine look at me. What’s happened? Why are you here?” He didn’t seem too mad, and he was guiding Blaine inside. Blaine allowed this to happen, sniffing pathetically. He was aware how awful he looked. His hair was a mass of ungelled curls, his body a little thinner, dark circles under his eyes. He inspected Kurt for this type of evidence, but he didn’t see any. Of course.

“My dad –“ No, that wasn’t quite right. “I mean, school-“ Everything. It was fucking everything. It was being ignored and being gay, being without Kurt and being a whore and it was being fucking done. He put his head in his hands, and he couldn’t stop crying.

Kurt, for his part, wasn’t sure what to do. He sat next to Blaine on the couch, a hand hovering over the boy’s shoulder, hesitant to touch.

“Kurt… Who was that guy?” Blaine felt sick, and he wasn’t sure what the right answer was here. “Was he your boyfriend?”

“No Blaine. He’s just a guy.”

“You never replied to me. Not once. I don’t… Are we still together?”

“I don’t think so Blaine.” His voice was gentle, ut it felt like knives against Blaine’s skin.

“I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. And I missed you. I miss you so much.”

Kurt’s eyes watered, and he was looking down at his hands, through shame or something else. “I miss you too.”

“Let me apologise.”

“Fine. Just… Fine.”

Kurt was still staring at his hands, and he hadn’t once looked at Blaine. Not once. Blaine moved from the couch, kneeling before Kurt. It was better here, he could see Kurt’s facial reactions more.

See Kurt’s face more.

Sometimes Blaine forgot how beautiful he was, how heart-breakingly gorgeous. He could compare him to stars, or a sunset, but honestly? Kurt deserved more than just pretty words. Blaine used to treat him like that too, like a work of art. But Kurt wasn’t his anymore, and that hurt more than anything he could do to himself.

“Kurt…” His voice stuttered over his name, like he didn’t want to leave the set of letters. “Kurt, when you left, and I’m not blaming you for that, not at all, you have to understand, I was literally alone. McKinley was always your school, and I moved for you. You were the centre of my universe there, and that was dangerous because what happens to planets once their sun is gone? I was aimless. It was okay at first, because you were, and you being happy is…Everything. But then you got busy, again, not your fault but when you did talk to me I realised… That was time out of your life, your amazing, perfect life that you’d always wanted, to talk to… Me. Plain, boring, stupid Blaine.” Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but Blaine shut him off. “And I panicked. It’s childish but without you reminding me I was worth something… I didn’t feel like I was worth anything. And then… This guy texted me and he said some of the things you used to say. I was weak Kurt. But I swear, I never stopped loving you. Not for a moment. These past few months have been hell. Without you, things just… Don’t make sense. You know?”

Kurt was wiping his eyes, silent tears trailing down his face.

“I’m sorry Kurt. I’m so sorry.”

Kurt still hadn’t spoken, and he was still crying and Blaine couldn’t help it. He leaned up, cupping Kurt’s face in hands with skin so much rougher than Kurt’s, and kissed him, finally, and it felt like redemption when Kurt kissed him back. It was desperate, Kurt kissing him back like he was starved for something.

“I love you too but don’t you ever, ever do that to me again Blaine, don’t you ever-“ He buried his face in the crook of Blaine’s neck, and Blaine rubbed a hand over his back. They sat there for a little while, their breathing syncing up as they relaxed. They needed to relearn each other. A lot could change in two months. Blaine knew he wasn’t the same person he was. He didn’t know if that was a bad thing or a good thing.

Kurt pulled on his hands, bringing him from his knees, and then the paler boy stood up too. The silence was loaded as they gazed at each other, Kurt blinking as though he’d seen Blaine for the very first time.

He kissed Blaine again and there was meaning this time, a promise of moremoremore. Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt, bringing them closer until they were chest to chest, Kurt’s hand curling around the back of his neck.

Blaine later would not to be able to remember how he got to the bedroom, with Kurt pulling his jumper off as Blaine unbuttoned his cardigan with clumsy hands. Seeing Kurt naked again was damn near overwhelming.

“God, you’re beautiful.” A light blush appeared on Kurt’s pale cheeks, and he pushed Blaine back on the bed.

Blaine remembered that night in snapshots, moments.

Kurt kissing him so hard both of their mouths were swollen and reddened.

Kurt’s fingers, curling around him, making sweat break across his body like a fever had taken hold.

Kurt, inside of him, not bothering to be particularly gentle because Blaine wanted to feel this the next day, wanted to still feel Kurt’s marks and bruises.

Kurt whispering, ‘mine’.

And then finally, Kurt pulling him to his chest as he pulled out, swallowing Blaine’s whines as he pulled the blanket over them, the afternoon sunshine filtering in through the blinds.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Don’t ever leave.”

“I won’t.”


End file.
